


The Spider Came to Collect What's Hers

by TheCreatorOfTales



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Doesn't appreciate Vera's tone, F/F, Joan's wife handles shit, Minor Violence, Mob connections, Prisoner Joan Ferguson, Richard the Scottish Bodyguard, Swearing, but not for very long!, escape themes, joan got a ride or die, mafia, means joan can chill for little bit, mention of rape but not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: Joan Ferguson is currently remanded to Wentworth Prison.Not for very much longer, if her wife has anything to say about it.Spider Spider, what a web you weave.Do you catch flies or will you let them leave?Completely Canon Divergent - obvs
Relationships: Joan Ferguson/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 13





	The Spider Came to Collect What's Hers

It was Joan’s third evening in general population and all the others in the unit had gone to bed, finally. She sat on top of her covers, not ready to sleep, so she decided she might as well read for a little. The book was decent, and she had made it around halfway through before she heard a clanking sound.

It was the sound of the entrance gate to the unit sliding open.

She closed her book and sat up fully, listening intently. It was definitely opening. She’d opened and closed plenty of those gates in her time, and they all had the same whoosh and clanking. That part of prison never changed, regardless of what side of the bars you were on. Swinging her legs off the bed, she sat, stomach twisting and adrenaline starting to pound through her veins. These fuckers had already tried to take her on in the yard days earlier and had most of their asses handed back to them and she would do it again. Seeing as how she was incarcerated, she was missing out on fencing, which is what usually how she dealt with pent-up energy. So she had plenty to spare. She wondered if there would be a group of them.

Listening closely, she tried to distinguish if any of the other women had noticed the gate opening.

She couldn’t hear any of the cells door opening, so she sat and waited, mentally trying to prepare in what formation she would strike, if she had to.

And then came the sound of high heels.

Stilettos, clicking, heel to toe with a purposeful stride. Murmured voices, one she recognised instantly as Vera fucking Bennett. However, she knew that Vera didn’t wear stilettos. She wore the clunky block heel which stopped her stumbling around like a newborn deer. Grimacing, she wished she’d chopped the stupid woman off at the knees when she met her. If she’d have undermined her enough, perhaps she’d have walked the fuck away and stayed by her dying mother’s bedside instead of wrecking perfectly laid plans.

“I told you, we don’t lock the cells individually! In case of emergency!” Interesting, there was a pleading tone there on Vera’s part. Why?

“Ma’am, tonight you do.” Male. Definitely not one of the male officers, she’d have recognised them instantly. This one had a deep timber to it, and an accent that she distinctly recognised as Scottish.

Who the fuck was here?!

She stayed sat on her bed, as one by one, she heard the sound of each cell in the unit being locked by hand with the master key that Joan knew was on Vera’s belt.

Until hers.

“Not that one, thank you.” The Scottish voice spoke again.

“Trust me, this one you will want me to lock.” Vera’s voice held venom. Little mouse had grown tiny claws it seemed.

“Not that one.” He repeated. “I’ll thank you to step back now, ma’am.” The male’s voice was calm. Vera muttered curses, but her voice became more distant, so Joan assumed that she’d complied.

The heels clicking came closer to the door, stopping directly in front. Joan could see where the strip of light at the bottom of the cell door had two shadows, showing that she was stood with her legs apart, likely in a military style stance.

The handle moved and the door swung open slowly, allowing more light to intrude into the cell, and show the owner of the high heels.

Abigail.

Who just so happened to be her wife.

“Hello, my darling. I’ve missed you.” Her cocky smirk on her face. Her distinctly English accent. Her body with its sharp, black suit, with tailored jacket and black cigarette trousers. Joan leapt off the bed and launched at her wife. Her lovely wife, who she adored, but who’d been away for so long. 

“DARLING?!” Vera Bennett squawked from her position by the table in the main area of the unit. She attempted to step forward, however Abigail’s bodyguard moved to intercept. The grating noise of Vera’s screech had woken the other women, who began to realise that none of them could leave their cells. Cries of ‘let me out’ and ‘what is going on’ could be heard from each cell. Rattling doors joined the cacophony.

“Where have you been!?” She demanded, clutching her wife’s face in her hands. Abigail’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feel of Joan’s hands on her cheeks. She opened them again though, as she leaned in to kiss her wife’s lips, for the first time in nearly a year. Neither woman pulled away for some minutes, revelling in the feel of one another after such an absence between them. Resting her forehead against Joan’s, Abigail sighed deeply, inhaling the scent of her wife. There was a difference though, and she assumed it was the lack of quality body wash and shampoo that she could get in prison. Its scent was nothing compared to her wife’s designer favourites she usually chose.

It seemed to hit Joan all at once though. How had she gotten here? This was prison, this wasn’t a simple building to strut into, and demand to see her wife.

“I leave you alone for a time and you end up in prison, my love.” Abigail’s sensual voice breathed into her ear. “How did that happen? Did you… _misbehave?”_

Joan clutched her wife’s jacket, pulling her closer to her. Making eye contact with Vera over Abigail’s shoulder, she placed a tender kiss behind her wife’s ear, making her shiver in all the right ways. Vera turned a very pale shade of white and reached a hand behind her, searching for something to hold to keep her upright. When she couldn’t find anything, she turned her head, looking decidedly uncomfortable, much to Joan’s pleasure.

“Me? Misbehave? Never.” Joan leaned back and smirked. “However, I have to ask how on earth you managed this?”

Abigail grasped both of Joan’s hands, and walked slowly backwards, leading her out of the small cell into the main area. Joan noticed that her wife had a new scar on her cleavage, which looked healed but only recently. Her hair was still the same gorgeous curls that she knew so well and her features hadn’t changed. Full lips that knew her body’s layout, and captivating brown eyes which stared into her soul in all the best ways.

Before Abigail could answer her wife, Vera Bennett found some courage from somewhere in her skinny body. She marched a few steps forward, looking at Joan.

“Ferguson, get back into your cell!” She attempted to look stern, however the effect was ruined slightly when both Joan and Abigail burst into laughter at the display. Both women could have snapped her like a child would snap a twig. Abigail didn’t appreciate the interruption with her wife however. She turned the Scottish bodyguard.

“Richard, please escort Miss Bennett to her bed for this evening. She may find it more comfortable that sleeping on the sofa or the floor out here.” Nodding, the tall man firmly grasped Vera’s upper arm, and dragged her, as gently as he could, into the cell that Joan had occupied a few minutes before. There was the sound of metal jangling and a muttered curse from Vera as the man stepped out with the ring of keys in his hand. He didn’t close the door however.

“You think you can just walk out of here, with her? And think that nobody would notice? I could press the panic button right now and people would swarm this unit!” Vera’s expression swelled with self righteous anger. Which turned to uncertainty when Abigail laughed in her face. The woman led Joan to the hideous blue sofa in front of the tv and indicated for her to sit. Without resistance, she complied. Then she watched as her wife went to work, walking closer to the deputy until they were nearly toe to toe. The situation was humorous, as Abigail towered over Vera causing the shorter woman to look up.

“Miss Bennett. I can and will walk out of this building with my wife on my arm this evening. Regardless of your opinion on the matter. In fact, if I thought Joan would agree, I would fuck her on this shitty table until everyone in this entire prison knew my name. However, I know that she won’t let me. You will not press that button, because if you do, I will need to take care of it. You really do not want me to take care of it, Miss Bennett, because it would involve the loss of your hands and perhaps some bodies for the coroner.” Her tone was menacing and Vera flinched back in obvious fear. “Your opinion on this isn’t required at this time. Everyone else in this building knows to stay away from this unit if you call for them.”

Vera’s eyes went wide. This woman had managed to get her claws into every single one of her staff?

“Who do you think told me that tonight was the best night to fetch my wife? Miss Miles is very forthcoming with information and was happy to help in exchange for a certain amount of money. By the way, she won’t be in work tomorrow. She’s received a better offer of employment.”

“Linda? Linda told you?!”

“Of course she did. Apparently, verbally berating her in front of the other officers was a stupid move on your part.” Vera remembered the incident with a flinch. Linda had stormed out of the break room, flinging her radio on the table and told them that they could cover the rest of her shift. Her final interaction with Vera was when she stated “ _at least Miss Ferguson would talk to you privately in her office. But then Ferguson didn’t need to try and prove her dominance. A lion doesn’t tell you it’s a fucking lion, Vera. All you fucking are is a rabbit playing dress up. Fuck off.”_

The blonde had stormed through the main doors and hadn’t returned. She wasn’t due to return until her shift tomorrow, and according to Joan’s wife, she wouldn’t be.

“I see you remember what I’m referring to.”

The deputy nodded. It hadn’t been the best day and she’d lost her temper. She regretted it now, but at the time it had felt cathartic. But she didn’t know if she could work with any officers now if this woman had managed to get to them. How could she even come to work and call for backup, if she didn’t even know if anyone would respond if she needed it?

The realisation had dawned on her face, because Abigail smirked at her.

“Just so you know, Mr Jackson was also approached.”

_Will. Not Will. Will wouldn’t. Will hated her as much as she did._

“I’ll admit he had the temerity to slam the door in my face when I mentioned my wife’s name. He didn’t have such temerity when I was sat in his kitchen with a cup of tea later waiting for him that evening after he arrived home from work. You will find his resignation on your desk when you get out of this cell tomorrow. He’s been encouraged to see the world, buy the boat he always wanted, and an inheritance will help him do that.”

“Inheritance? What inheritance? He doesn’t have any grandparents or parents left!”

Abigail sighed harshly, and turned to call over her shoulder.

“Is she always this dim!?”

Joan’s answer of “Mhm” gave her all the information she needed.

The faint yell of “YES” from three of the cells, was noted however. In the back of her mind, Joan noted that the women were listening as best they could. Good.

“He received an inheritance to forget that Joan Ferguson existed. He will move on with his life and disappear to explore the world and won’t show at the court case, which will then be thrown as no case to answer. Either way, its pretty hard to convict someone without the witness or the defendant, wouldn’t you say.” A perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised at her.

Vera’s eyes went wide.

Once the case was thrown out, Joan would be free again. She could slither out of anything it seemed, much to Vera’s growing horror.

“Who are you?” she whispered, not sure that she wanted the answer.

“All you need to know, lovely, dim-witted Vera Bennett, is that I am a spider. I weave my many webs, and I’m very good at what I do.”

“I know about Jianna!” Vera blurted, thinking she’d found her ace in the hole.

Both Joan and Abigail laughed. Abigail smiled in a particularly cruel manner.

“So do I, my dear. The women who caused Jianna’s death were dealt with, and we have also seen to her son’s wellbeing. He’s doing well now, going to university soon. The ironic thing is, he wants to be a lawyer.”

Vera slumped in defeat. This was it. Joan was going to escape in a dignified manner with her head held high. Her staff couldn’t be trusted, her budget was overrun and the woman’s escape would become legendary. The wife of a mafia boss? Who came to collect her personally? It would circle the prison for decades. She sniffed.

Abigail thought of her as pathetic. In her opinion you had two choices when cornered. Fight or flight. An animal is at its most dangerous when cornered. In any instance, both she and Joan would always chose fight. Vera couldn’t even think on her feet to find a way to flee. Joan sat, regal as a queen, with her chin in her hand, watching as Abigail tore Vera down with her verbal barbs. Each one stung, and the thing that made them truly painful was that each one was true.

Each officer had been gotten, in some form or other. No loyalty to her. Linda Miles had accepted Abigail’s offer with a smile on her face and no hesitation. The blonde had added in that Vera Bennett could go fuck herself for all she cared. Will Jackson had indeed taken convincing, but the amount of money offered meant that he did eventually accept after an hour of persuasion. If the man had any sense he would be packing his house up now. The other officers had only needed a small amount of money to agree to ignore any calls for backup from Vera.

Abigail had immense control over the press. A word from her and Joan’s sudden disappearance from the prison wouldn’t be so much as a single sentence in the paper. Joan knew perfectly well that her wife had plenty of leverage in the justice department too. If she wanted, she could have simply demanded that the case file be lost, however if it became an issue of no case to answer, then Joan could resume life in Australia if she wished.

It was then that Abigail stepped back, Joan stood as she did so. Walking over to the woman, Joan looked at who was once her deputy. She decided to offer a final warning.

“Be careful.” Vera blinked up at her, confused with the gentle tone coming from the black haired older woman. “Prisons have a funny way of ending up as fishbowls where all that matters is what happens inside. You and I both know that isn’t the case.”

Unable to speak, Vera nodded hesitantly.

“There’s a world of opportunity outside, you know? Nothing is keeping you here. Explore a bit and for fuck’s sake, find some self confidence and a backbone, would you?” Joan sounded exasperated. But then she turned to her wife, held out her hand and watched her face.

“I want to go home, darling. We’ve wasted enough time.” Abigail pulled Joan towards her, using their joined hands to bring her closer, to wrap a toned arm around her waist. Before they walked away, Abigail turned to Vera for the last time.

“Oh, I believe an inmate called Juice and her gang were planning on ‘ganging’ my wife?” her tone became molten steel. “I will assume that is some grotesque version of rape that occurs in this prison. However, their plans were overheard as we made our way inside earlier, so they have been dealt with. You will find them strung up in the shower room. Enjoy dealing with that.”

And with that final piece of the conversation concluded, Vera felt herself being pushed back, and the cell door closing in her face. She heard the lock turn and the sound of heels retreating. Looking around the cell, she sat on the edge of the bed, and placed her head in her hands.

“See you soon, ladies!” Joan’s voice boomed throughout the unit, causing a ruckus from the other women and a symphony of rattling doors.

The unit gate was closed by Richard, who followed the pair of wives with a satisfied smile on his face.

Vera eyed the panic button on the wall, and thought better of it. Might as well get some sleep if nobody would be coming to help her tonight.

Two weeks later, when Joan was declared a free woman once more, she was sat on a yacht, sailing through the Mediterranean, wearing a slinky black bikini, much to the happiness of her wife, and sipping on chilled vodka. The book she was reading, was the same one that she’d started on the night of her retrieval from Wentworth.

The two celebrated Joan’s newfound freedom in all manner of positions and locations, using tongues, fingers and teeth. Both were left feeling very satisfied with themselves.


End file.
